II. A Party Forms (Chapter Two)

“Finally, back home.” Burt kicks off his boots and lays himself down on the couch. “I love what you’ve done with the place, Allard,” he says sarcastically. 

The Adventurer’s Guild Quarters looks like it has been neglected for some time. Dust covers the tomes along the shelf and the couch looks almost tasseled from the shredded upholstery. 

“Feet off the couch,” Allard says in a firm voice. “Things aren’t the way they used to be. It mightn’t have mattered to you after you ran off with the gold, but, though we still get a ton of jobs and are generally active, our real purpose slowly faded away as time went on. The real reason the guild was founded, the Embers of the Phoenix, are basically non-existent now. Our regular guild members come to pick up jobs, but they barely stick around past that. I’m basically all that’s left.” 

You stand next to the wall, crossing your arms. 

“Not what you were expecting? It’s a glamorous lifestyle,” Burt says as he chuckles at you. He opens his arms wide and takes a deep breath. “Ah, the smell of sweat, justice, and mold.” 

You mutter something under your breath, relax your arms, and walk around to Allard, who’s flipping through pages of an old tome. 

“Not so bad you say? Imagine ten whiskers living in here. It’s far from the dream life,” Burt says, laying back and looking at the ceiling.

“Enough, Burt,” Allard demands. “Adventurer, how did you know to unlock the Atlas?” 

“Don’t you mean, ‘we’,” Burt says, springing from the couch. 

“I’m speaking with the Adventurer, Burt,” Allard says, shaking his head. “Listen, the Atlas of Old may seem like your average map but it’s more than a bit different.” Allard points down to the peak of Dragonfall.

Your eyes widen with shock. 

“That’s right, Adventurer. It’s Draconis Frioko, the offspring of the dragon that almost ended all of civilization in the Northern Mountains. This is the great secret of the Atlas. Some of The Great Pond’s biggest threats are shown within this map.”

Burt gets up from the couch and opens a window.

“This place needs some fresh air.”

Allard continues, ignoring burt.

“This is where it gets interesting. Look at the remains of Draconis Summus,” he says as he points to the mountain once more. 

You look at the Atlas carefully where Allard had laid his finger when suddenly the skeletal remains become active again, roaming the Northern Mountains. You look up at Allard. 

“The atlas has a way of showing us the past as well as the present. Which leads me to my next discovery. I’ve heard rumors that Andromadus is still lurking in the shadows among us.”

You lean your head to the side. 

“You mean to say you don’t know of Andromadus?” Allard asks. 

“You’ve never heard of the one of the most dangerous whiskers to walk The Great Pond?” Burt says in disbelief. 

You shrug your shoulders. 

“He’s a hideous whisker with horns protruding from his head. With every step he takes the ground becomes scorched. I’ve heard stories of him stealing whiskers’ souls and…” 

“Enough, Burt!” Allard puts his foot down then turns to you. “Don’t listen to him. He can’t take anything serious.”

“Why, yes I can,” Burt refutes.

You give Burt an incredulous look.

Allard laughs, “That’s right, Adventurer. Cards are about the only thing he takes seriously.” 

Burt strolls back to the couch and throws himself onto it.  

Allard looks back at you. “Andromadus is a powerful whisker, Adventurer. He is a direct threat to The Great Pond. The Adventurer’s Guild is the only thing that stands against him and his thirst for power.”

You lower your head back to the atlas. 

“He was exiled years ago and fled to the Northern Mountains. Many believe that he died there, but I know that’s not true. Evil doesn’t die,” Allard almost whispers that last sentence under his breath.

We sit at the table, staring at the atlas. 

“Allard’s right,” Burt calls from the other side of the couch. “I’ve felt his presence before. I don't understand and can’t explain it but,” Burt sits up and looks deadpan at the wall, “I feel that he’s alive.” 

We sit in silence for a moment. Allard speaks up:

“Is this true, Burt?”

“Yes,” Burt replies, in an uncharacteristically serious tone.

You look over to Allard, worrying. 

“How long have you felt his presence?” Allard asks. 

“It only lingers. Sometimes I don’t feel it at all.” Burt shakes his head like he’s struggling to think. 

“Interesting,” Allard says. 

You look back at Allard, who is back to staring at the atlas. He lays his fingers on several locations in the Northern Mountains. Draconis Frioko is steady in the caves of Dragonfall as you both continue to watch. Suddenly a mark flashes before your eyes. 

You throw your finger down where the dot had flashed. 

“That’s him,” Allard says. “Now watch his movement.”

The atlas rewinds to the past. Andromadus seems to stay in the same spot, no movement whatsoever. Until he walks directly to the Settlement of the Dead and then vanishes from the map. You and Allard look at each other. 

“How did he…?” Allard begins, but is at a loss for words. He shakes his head and furrows his brow. 

Allard stands and walks to the window, staring down at the busy roads of Windrose City. You continue to stare at the map where Andromadus’ mark had disappeared. 

Burt stands from the couch and wanders over to the map where you show him the last location of Andromadus. He walks to the window and places his hands on Allard’s shoulders.

“Evil doesn’t die, huh?”